


No Sacrifice Today

by Crowgirl



Series: Scars Remind Us [40]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel Asking the Right Questions, Dean Being Difficult, M/M, Sam Being Helpful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-18
Updated: 2012-04-18
Packaged: 2017-11-03 21:45:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/386299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crowgirl/pseuds/Crowgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ongoing discussion, and ramifications thereof, between Dean and Castiel about the after-effects of Hell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Sacrifice Today

XL.

Dean is kneeling on the floor when Castiel brings himself back to the motel room. He glances up -- and says nothing. Castiel stands by the door, which is half-open, letting in a cool night breeze faintly scented with woods, and can think of nothing to say in response to Dean’s silence.

The room is lit by two flashlights sitting on the table by the bed, both aimed up at the ceiling, and the light from the parking lot outside. It looks dim and shadowy and ruined.

‘Don’t know what we’ve got left that you can break, buddy.’ Dean sits back on his heels, gesturing at the wasteland of shattered glass around him. He has cleared a narrow walking space between the bed and the door, but the rest of the carpet sparkles. 

‘I did not come back to break anything. I am...sorry...for this.’ Castiel glances around the room, seeing torn wiring hanging from a half-burned lamp, a dark spot on the ceiling near what had been the light fixture in the center, and a scatter of white near the bed that he thinks might be the remains of a pillow. 

Dean shrugs, dropping a last few chunks of what was once the television screen onto the piece of folded newspaper by his knee. ‘So what _did_ you come back for?’ He braces his hands on his knees and shakes his head, looking down at the pile of glass chunks. ‘’Cause I’ll tell you, Cas -- I am so fucking tired, I--’ He falls silent and rubs the back of a wrist over his forehead.

Castiel frowns, looking back at Dean. It does not seem to him that the boys have been hunting more than usual; indeed, they have been in this particular motel for almost a week with little driving. ‘You are tired?’

Dean snorts and pulls himself straight. ‘Yeah, amazingly enough having angels drop out of nowhere and bust up your room’ll make you a little tired.’

‘He doesn’t sleep, Cas.’ Sam’s voice comes from behind Castiel and the angel takes a step to the side to allow the other man room to enter.

‘Gee, thanks, _Mom._ ’ Dean throws his brother a half-hearted glare.

‘I’m sick of this shit.’ Sam jerks a thumb back over his shoulder. ‘I practically had to agree to _date_ the check-in girl before she’d pretend to buy my story.’ He turns towards Castiel. ‘He doesn’t sleep more than two or three hours a day. I don’t know why -- he won’t tell me. I’ve done more driving in the past month than I have in the past two _years._ If he falls asleep--’

‘Sam.’ There is an unmistakeable tone of warning in Dean’s voice but Sam doesn’t even pause.

‘If he falls asleep, he wakes up screaming.’

‘Sam, fuckin’ shut--’ Dean scrambles to his feet, but then finds himself stranded in the midst of a pool of shattered glass.

Castiel sighs and focuses, drawing invisible sigils in the air with slight movements of his fingers. The fragmented glass rises into the air briefly in a sparkling cloud -- then vanishes.

‘Uh...’ Dean glances around himself and takes a cautious step forward. ‘Okay...that’s...yeah, that’s good, too.’

‘I cannot fix that.’ Castiel gestures to the burned out lamp and the black spot on the ceiling. 

‘We can hide that,’ Sam says a little slowly, looking around the room as if he expects the shards to cascade back down out of thin air. 

‘Why are you not sleeping, Dean?’ Castiel looks back at the younger man.

Dean throws out his arms in a gesture of disbelief. ‘Jesus, Cas, _that’s_ what you want to know? Bad insomnia, okay? I probably drink too much coffee.’ 

‘No shit you do,’ Sam says soberly. ‘I didn’t know you could drink that much.’ Castiel looks back at him and Sam measures out cups in the air with his hands. 

‘Says Mr. 16-Ounces-Before-Eight-or-Coma-Sets-In!’ 

‘We can’t pass a fucking gas station with a pot in the window, Dean! You haven’t drunk this much Mountain Dew since you were fourteen!’

‘I got a taste for it!’

 _‘No-one_ has a taste for that crap!’ 

‘Hey, keep it the fuck down over there!’ An unknown voice bellows over the parking lot and Sam winces, then steps inside and shuts the door carefully.

‘I’m just...on a caffeine jag, okay?’ Dean says with exaggerated caution, making his way carefully towards the bed. ‘I’ll get over it.’

‘Then explain to Cas about how you almost ran us off the road two weeks ago.’

‘I didn’t--’ Dean bites off the rest of whatever he was going to say and clamps his mouth shut, staring grimly into the space just in front of him.

‘Dean?’ The younger man does not respond and Castiel looks at Sam.

‘Why do you think we’ve been here so long, Cas? I can’t make the drives by myself and I can’t trust _him,_ ’ Sam jerks a hand at his brother who is still resolutely staring at nothing, ‘to get us further than the next town over. I don’t know what the hell’s going on.’

‘Did something happen on a hunt? A curse or a spell or--’

‘No.’ Dean bites out the word. ‘S’nothin’ like that. Sam, y’can’t help. It’ll just...I’ll be _fine._ ’

Sam sighs and shakes his head. ‘You’re gonna have to find a new word, Dean, ‘cause I’m callin’ bullshit on that one.’ 

Dean says nothing and Castiel crosses to where he is sitting on the end of the bed and kneels down before him. Even with the dim light coming through the window, he can see the darkness in the soft skin under Dean’s eyes and Castiel remembers the lines of exhaustion around his mouth. When he lays a hand gently on Dean’s knee, he can feel the faint tremor in Dean’s muscles from the effort of holding himself so stiffly upright. ‘Dean. What is wrong?’

‘I’m great, Cas. Just great.’ Dean looks up and gives him a tight, strained smile. ‘Like always.’

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Sacrifice," Theory of a Deadman, _Scars and Souvenirs_.


End file.
